


That Annoying Balm

by donutsweeper



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22642789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsweeper/pseuds/donutsweeper
Summary: In Geralt's opinion Jaskier was a mostly unwanted, annoying hanger-on that he put up with because getting rid of him would involve effort so he didn't bother to do so. He never thought keeping Jaskier around might wind up being helpful, let alone save his life.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	That Annoying Balm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mk_tortie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_tortie/gifts).



Geralt _hurt._

He was so cold, shivering and coughing, his wet hair sticking to his face. It felt like he had a layer of ice covering his clothing, crackling with every movement but his side still burned a fiery poker each time he took a step. 

The pain was immense, but even if he considered stopping he couldn't. His will wasn't being controlled but his body was, somewhat. 

"How are you so heavy? You are seriously, impossibly, heavy I'll have you know. I don't understand how you can be so quick on your feet and yet so ridiculously, stupidly heavy." 

Jaskier.

"That's probably why the bridge broke. I mean, it was only a small footbridge, and a kind of rickety one at that, but I had no problem crossing the river. You, however, were barely halfway across before _CRACK_!" Geralt winced at the volume of the shout, but Jaskier was too far gone into his rant to notice. "And there I was, safe on the other side, thinking, 'How am I going to manage to work this into a ballad? My valiant Witcher, survived slaying a dozen of the most vile creatures known to man—"

"It wasn't… a dozen."

"Close enough."

"And," Geralt tried to shift and stand on his own but either Jaskier had some sort of magically enhanced grip on his arm or, well, Geralt didn't want to think about the 'or' too much, "they weren't… 'the most vile… creature known… to man' they were… they were…"

"I know what they were. And they were still creatures no sane person is willingly going to stand up against if they weren't someone as ridiculously talented and stupid as you. Anyway, who's telling the story here? You? No. So be quiet and save your strength. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. How was I supposed to pen a ballad where Geralt, the brave Butcher of Blaviken, easily eliminated a dozen of the most vile creatures known to man or elf, only to die when a rotten board gave out under his feet?' But then you did that thing with your sword, pulling it off your back and slamming it into an intact board—very quick reflexes by the way, I have to say, I was impressed—and I figured you were saved because you'd be able to pull yourself to safety. I even started to compose a verse about it in my head. It was going to go something like this—"

Geralt's foot caught on a tree root and he tripped, crashing to the ground and taking Jaskier down with him.

"Fuck! Geralt! Come on, get up!"

The slash on his side had flared with pain when he'd fallen but every other part of him was still so cold, even the hard packed dirt with its light dusting of snow seemed almost warm in comparison. Jaskier hadn't stopped yelling but while Gerald was aware of the shouts and curses and admonishments and complaints he seemed to be only able to catch ahold of snatches of phrases, the rest slipping away with the cold.

"You can't just lay there! You pulled yourself out of an icy river, why can't you...."

The sky was grey and its clouds looked almost angry. Geralt stared up at it, blinking the snowflakes out of his eyes as they fell. 

"You said you were fine and I just had to help you back to Roach and…."

Eventually the snow became bothersome and it would just be easier to close his eyes. 

"Geralt! Come on you big oaf, get up! Get up! Or just lay there. FIne. Do that. See if I…."

It got colder. Maybe it was the snow, maybe the wind, but Geralt couldn't remember being this cold before. It was oddly peaceful though. At least, he'd thought it was until something started nibbling his hair. 

"Since I couldn't take you to Roach I decided to take Roach to you, but let me tell you, he was _not_ happy about it. Do you know how stubborn this horse can be? Very stubborn." There was a thunk as something was dropped into the dirt next to his head. "I've got your bag here; you need to tell me what to do, which potion you need. Come on, Geralt… fine. I'll just go through it then and you're not allowed to yell at me for poking about in your bag though and definitely not allowed to punch me for it. And I'll have you know I'm going to be singing about this and how a kind and selfless bard saved the life of a—"

Geralt screamed as Jaskier poured a potion over the slash in his side, sitting up immediately and instinctively taking a swing at him, but Jaskier deftly skittered out of the way.

"Uh, uh, uh, Mister Grumpy Pants. No hitting the bard who is just _trying to stop you from dying on him!_ Ahem. I mean. Glad to see you up and about, at least somewhat, Geralt. Now, come on, let's get you on your feet." The shock and surprise and effects of the potion combined enough that, with Jaskier's help, Geralt managed to push himself enough he could get up, somewhat, then grab onto Roach—who was kind enough not to complain about it too much—and, eventually, managed to get himself into the saddle. 

Jaskier, despite in no uncertain terms having been told several times that he was never ever to even think about riding Roach upon pain on death, climbed on behind him. Geralt knew he should take him to task for that but, he knew himself well enough to realize he was weak enough he might not be able to stay on Roach unassisted so he begrudgingly allowed it.

Also, as it turned out, Jaskier was _warm_ and as ridiculous as it was, considering their size differences, for Geralt to be seated in front while Jaskier held the reins, it enabled him to curl himself inside of Jaskier's arms and the cold that had been leeching his strength began to ease.

"It shouldn't take that long to get to town," Jaskier said, his breath ghosting against Geralt's cheek. "We'll collect our payment—"

"My payment."

" _Our_ payment and then get a room at the inn. I know you'd mentioned wanting to move on tonight but that gash needs treating and having a chance to get some rest and a nice meal wouldn't go awry. Besides, it'd give me a chance to try out my new song and see if people like it. Want to hear it?"

"No."

After taking a deep breath Jaskier barely got to belt out half a word before Geralt elbowed him gently, just hard enough to make his point.

"You really are no fun whatsoever, you know that?"

"So you've said."

"Well, it's the truth. Sometimes I don't even know why I travel with you. Jaskier, I've said to myself on many, many occasions, what are you doing? Why haven't you settled down yet? You could find a nice young adoring peasant to settle down with but no, here you are, traipsing through the kingdom with the grumpiest of Witchers to have ever walked the world…." 

Geralt let Jaskier's annoyed blathering flow over him, a soothing, familiar balm.


End file.
